Sunday Post

The case of stolen ThymePhoto by Thai Peck

A little potted seedling of Thyme would cost almost $3.00 from a market stall down in Chelsea shop. It was nurtured, watered and cared for outside the front fence, growing slowly but healthily, I was hoping to see it turning bushier for a sort of ground-cover which passer-by can pick up a sprig or two for their stew pot.IMG_1401

One morning it disappeared! The hole where the soil formed a round shape of the plant was there but the little Thyme bush has gone. Some thief had come in the night and stole my lovely green lemon Thyme!

I don’t need any sleuth to tell me that the culprit must be a super nose-sensitive woman; a common man would not be able to smell it unless if he is one of those TV chefs talk with a French accent.Photo by Thai Peck

Standing at the crime scene with my magnifying glass, studying the surrounding, searching for some glue. The street was almost deserted, in an atmosphere void of any human footsteps being taken for a walk by their dogs except for parked cars lining the kerb.

Photo by Thai PeckMy assistant, Dr Watson, Hastings, Miss Lemon brought up a theory that it must be a woman and that she must have come from the left side, which is the end of the street,  walking toward the beach passing my house and on her way back.

Photo by Thai Peck

She must have smelled the Thyme bush, then waited until nightfall, came out to do the job. Miss Lemon concluded: the woman must be a resident in one of those units toward the end of my street. Perhaps I should walk by to nose around and see if I could detect roasted lemon Thyme.

“Sergeant” Adam was told, from the iPhone he asked: “What happened to the CCTV?” Well, it has never worked, and the solar sensor light had stopped working altogether, because the sun may have moved since we entered halfway through autumn? He assured me that he would drop by to check it all out. Which means he will want a wholesome tasty dinner afterwards, preferably “lemon thyme marinated chicken”.Photo by Thai Peck

It is an odious crime; in the olden day the woman would have been shipped to Australia (?) as a convict. Today, one could only hope that her dinner will somehow always have a certain bitter taste from the revenge of the stolen Thyme.

🙂 🙂 🙂


“Come Wander With Me”

Photo by Thai Peck

These photos were just quick snap shots with my iPhone on my wander this morning.

Photo by Thai Peck

Photo by Thai Peck

“…He said come wander with me love

Come wander with me

Away from this sad world

Come wander with me

He came from the sunset

He came from the sea

He came from my sorrow

And can only love me…”

A song by Jeff Alexander

Photo by Thai Peck

Photo by Thai Peck

The Ties That Bind

Photo by Thai Peck

This book was weaved from forty ties, forty ties out of almost a hundred ties! They came from almost a lifetime in which I had my share that is from 1968 until 2015 and that covered almost my entire life.

Photo by Thai Peck

After a long and hard juggling trying to save them, the forty ties were cut so the artist could weave without too much difficulty to bind the book cover. To quote a phrase: “…and so the ties were cut!”

Photo by Thai PeckPhoto by Thai Peck
Photo by Thai Peck

“Only ever with you, I love to have and hold into the circle of your arms,  I’ll unfold; into your blue eyes’ greeting shine, my gold; only ever with you, I yearn to grow old…

Only ever with you I can write rhymes as such, for you bring my muse from dust to dash, to hush.  Only ever with you my being wants to attach, as first step already taken to our primrose path.

Stars and moon may leave the dark skies yet, one look at the gleam of your blue eyes day and night, I see the rising sunrise. Only ever with you, I will dive to lows or heights.

For only ever with you, I’ll plunge to infinity.  Prayers plea asking blessing from divinity, to tie two hearts and two souls in sole unity.  Mindless to whatever is there in humanity.”

(A poem by Olive Eloisa Guillermo)

Photo by Thai Peck

One could not help but feeling some regret to finally cut the ties, but in order to be free and move on with living it is necessary, only to have the comfort that I am blessed with the memories to treasure while I am getting ready for my journey onto a new path.

A New Chapter

My Journey

My first journey started forty-eight years ago and little that I knew. It was to be a journey that changed my life. One July morning in 1968, as a young girl walking along Boulevard Saint Germain in Paris 6th arrondissement, I was witnessing the sites of destruction from anti Vietnam War demonstrations happened a couple of months earlier. “The Sorbonne Crisis” I was told.

Photo by Bruno Barbey Boulevard Saint Germain 6 May 1968
Photo by Bruno Barbey
Boulevard Saint Germain 6 May 1968
July 1968
July 1968

I did not give much thought to it. I was young, naive and full of romantic notion in my head. I did not leave Saigon to be in Paris for my summer vacation just to be reminded of the war I grew up with. Yet there was no escape, from Paris to Switzerland and to Italy. If I wanted to, I could have stayed in Europe and not returning to war-torn Saigon. Although I held no attachment to anyone or any place in Saigon, I chose to go back, that is after my mother and I made a brief visit to New York, Los Angeles and then on our way to Tahiti and New Caledonia.

Our last stop was Australia where we had a whole week to explore this new country mostly out of curiosity. We only had enough time to see Sydney and Canberra. In Sydney, I met a friendly young taxi driver who also studied Law at Sydney University. Again, the conversation was about the war in Vietnam, it was here I first learnt about Australian National Service Scheme, known as “Conscription”: Young men at the age of twenty were required to register and were subject to a ballot which, if their birth date was drawn, they will have to do service in the army and liable for combat duties in Vietnam. My friend, the law student was glad his birth date was not drawn but he had good friends who at that moment were fighting in Vietnam. It was like a lottery you would not want to win, so thought I.

Photo from source

I left Australia with not much impression about the country though the first Australian I met seemed to be nice. We returned to Saigon via a stopover in Singapore and there my fate was sealed. I later realised why I did not want to stay back in Europe… On a sticky humid morning in late August of that same year at Singapore airport, while boarding an Air Vietnam flight I met this handsome young reporter from Australia (the place I had just left a few days ago). He gallantly offered to help carry one of my many bags, he did not know either, that his fate then was also sealed. Because he ended up carrying my bag faithfully for the rest of his life as we travelled through many more journeys, the bags were getting heavier. It was a romantic beginning that lasted more than four decades through good and bad times, but we survived to the end and the last twenty years were the best of them all.

1968 was the year of the Monkey. 2016 is also the year of the Monkey.  I have no knowledge of the meaning nor the connection to this particular animal’s year, only that I am about to embark on another journey but which I won’t be carrying many bags, one perhaps and it is on wheels, as I am a “little” older but a lot wiser to expect any old “journo” to help me with my bag.

Even at the ripe old age, I still have no idea what the morrow brings.  If you care to follow me, there are still so much that I want to see, learn and share…